The full trailer for the Ridley Scott directed Robin Hood movie has arrived, and it brings with it the claim that it delivers ?the untold story? of the servant who became the legend. That suggests there?s something modern here, something we haven?t seen in the dozens upon dozens of other Robin Hood retellings which have already been made. If Ridley deep down has discovered some new bend on this tale, it?s not in suggestion in this trailer.
In lieu of what we get is a lot more of what you look for. A lot of esteemed talk of justice, people shooting arrows, Robin Hood looking brave (and older than he perpetually has before) while making speeches and leading the charge. Actually if there?s anything numerous in this Robin Hood take it?s that it seems at some relevancy Robin Hood trades in his band of Merry Men for a full fledged army. While that energy be new to the Robin Hood tale, the massive cavalry charge against an opponent is once something we?ve seen in advance, and a a load of it. So here?s the supplemental trailer. See it in HD on or see it embedded below. Watch and get excited. It may not be exceptionally fresh, but Robin Hood not till hell freezes over really gets old.
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It is with great sadness that we say goodbye to you today. Our time chronicling the life of Denver and Colorado, the nation and the world, is over. Thousands of men and women have worked at this newspaper since William Byers produced its first edition on the banks of Cherry Creek on April 23, 1859. We speak, we believe, for all of them, when we say that it has been an honor to serve you. To have reached this day, the final edition of the Rocky Mountain News, just 55 days shy of its 150th birthday is painful. We will scatter. And all that will be left are the stories we have told, captured on microfilm or in digital archives, devices unimaginable in those first days.
The final front page of the Rocky Mountain News. Click on the links below to see the collection of past front pages.
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The Rocky Mountain News has closed. Click to visit our special section covering the announcement of the paper's sale until its closure.
Eban is 29. He’s on Christmas break from his job teaching soccer to unyielding high school kids in Seattle, staying with his parents in Seaside, Oregon. He may be an grown-up, but we know he’s still cool, because it’s in a record shop that he first catches a glimpse of 14-year-old Charley. After Eban bumps into Charley in a café and overly praises his amateurish artwork, we also know that he’s interested in Charley, but is it just because he’s withdrawn (”I don’t have many friends here”), or is something else at work?
Something else is indeed at be effective, but the two share an pastime in guitar, as well as knowing announcement intercourse, so it’s not long before they agree a mutual conviviality. Eban isn’t the only lonely one—Charley recently moved to Seaside to lodge with his paterfamilias, after his deaf mother was killed in a car accident. It’s their mutual loneliness and need for companionship that lead to on good terms bike rides, afternoons wandering around on the lakeshore, and a growing intimacy. And it will come as no set someone back on his that the chilly, muggy winter suffer, leading them both to undress in Charley’s room, results in an come upon…but it’s an encounter predicated on Charley’s lasciviousness for Eban, and not the other way around.
The sweetness and tenderness of their relationship won’t pattern any longer than one would expect, as the truth roughly Eban’s exile from Seattle comes back to haunt him, and Charley’s father finally realizes what’s successful on, with the expected results. Eban takes measures to screen himself from the potentially fatal consequences of his tenderness, while the ill-fated befuddled Charley, awash in the emotions of adolescent love, struggles to understand why Eban grows ever more unapproachable, then rapidly influenza.
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Head James Bolton’s freshman feature effort takes its sign from its setting, a holiday town during the off season. One presumes that Seaside would be a bustling, happy place full of tourists during the summer, but the winter break Seaside depicted in the film is low-spirited, almost bare of human presence. The perpetually cloudy skies reduce the beach and the buildings to shades of grey, and it’s this depressing setting that most informs the shoot. There’s an overarching feeling of down in the mouth, a sense of regret that Eban and Charley’s love is story to breakdown.
Without thought the above, don’t assume that this cinema is an excercise in gloominess. Bolton’s plan does favor long, nearly wordless sequences between the two protagonists, but it’s refreshing, and probably more genuine than in most films, to see a nearly inarticulate teen urchin as he struggles to bargain with his feelings. This is an clever videotape, with humor, drama (not Bolton’s strong suite, as several clumsily filmed melodramatic sequences prove), and sweetness. And there might just be a happy ending after all.
St. Paul, Minn. — Oscar winner Anthony Hopkins said that winning one of the statuettes doesn't really change your life.
As he put it, "you're still mortal." That said, a lot of actors, directors and producers are holding their breath and hoping they hear their name after the phrase: The Oscar goes to…
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MPR's movie maven, Stephanie Curtis, has this preview of Sunday night's awards show.
Reviewed by Dennis Schwartz
Rainer Werner Fassbinder directs this downbeat morality tale for German TV about a hardworking bricklayer unable to overcome growing up in a cold Bavarian family and falling into serious trouble with the law. It’s based on the book Lebenslaenglich (”Life Sentence”) by Klaus Antes & Christiane Erhardt, that featured a real-life interview with a convicted murderer. It’s told in flashback as Peter (Vitus Zeplichal) is being interviewed by an unidentified woman, obviously a prison psychiatrist (Erika Runge).
The film follows the timid and psychologically fragile Peter from his adult days living with his unaffectionate cafe owner parents in the Bavarian Forest and building for them a lovely house. They show him love for just two weeks after the house is built and then go back to their loveless old ways. Peter in the meantime marries a virgin, Erika (Elke Aberle), who works in a chemist’s. Wanting to show his parents that he could make it on his own, the couple move to Munich–the most expensive city in Germany. Peter gets a construction job that doesn’t pay well, but he impresses the bosses because he’s such a hard worker and gets by only because he works overtime and never takes a day off. He’s driven to give his wife what others have and gets caught up in the big-city consumerism by buying everything on the layaway plan. This causes him to go in debt. Peter feels he would rather die working than begging his father for money. When a baby comes along and overtime dries up, Peter is unable to cope with the sudden change and commits a senseless murder and receives a ten year sentence.
This deliberately paced tale is didactic but very effective in showing the great gulf in the class divide due to economics, how the worker is exploited, the coldness of the materialistic-minded world and the fragility of a psyche weaned without parental affection. For the fatalist Fassbinder, this is typical fodder for him to sink his teeth into. The dutiful son and exemplary worker shrivels up when he feels he’s letting his parents and wife down by not being able to support his family, and would rather die than not have their love.
The strong point of this gripping dramaturgical story set in pioneer Wyoming is a constantly mounting suspense.
Delmer Daves’ direction and the script from Paul I. Wellman’s novel carefully build towards the explosion that’s certain to come, taking time along the way to make sure that all characters are well-rounded and understandable. Capping all this emotional suspense is the backdrop of the Grand Teton country in Wyoming.
Glenn Ford, a drifting cowpoke, runs into trouble when he takes a job on the cattle ranch operated by Ernest Borgnine. Valerie French, the rancher’s amoral wife, makes an open but abortive play for him and Rod Steiger, who doesn’t like to see himself replaced in her extra-marital activities, plots to get even with his possible rival.
Oddly enough, much of the footage is free of actual physical violence, but the nerves are stretched so taut that it’s almost a relief when it does come. Ford is effective in his underplaying of the cowpoke who wants to settle down. Borgnine is excellent as the rough but gentle man. Steiger spews evil venom as the cowhand who wants the ranch and the rancher’s wife.
In 10 Words or Less Sex, drugs and emotional retardation
Reviewer’s Bias* Loves: Good indie films, coming-of-age tales Likes: Keanu Reeves, Vince Vaughn Dislikes: Suburban stereotypes Hates: Bad parents
The Movie Having never read the novel, I never knew much about this movie aside from three main facts: 1. Keanu Reeves was in it. 2. It had a quirky ad campaign. 3. Everyone whose opinion I trust enjoyed it.
So armed with that knowledge, and having been informed that the director was not a part of R.E.M., I set out to experience this movie, expecting a quirky independent film. I got exactly that once engulfed in the world of Justin Cobb (Lou Pucci), a young man with parents who haven’t grown up, a severely introverted personality and a thumbsucking habit that he just can’t quit. He’s also got a far-out dentist (Keanu Reeves) who hypnotizes him to break the aforementioned habit, only to set him on a course for psychiatric medication. But that’s really just the setup.
Once “freed” by his pills, a new Justin is born, and faces down the previously unseen truths in his life, symbolically represented by his success as a part of the school debate team. The success has a definite price, paid by Justin and everyone around him, including Rebecca, the girl he carries a torch for, who follows a path that’s parallel and opposite of Justin’s.
Though the movie is grounded in nothing but reality, there’s a sense of time-traveling, as Justin moves from child to adult and back again, with several stops in between. There may be a statement about the reality of life lived on drugs in the movie, but there are so many themes at work that to pull one out and label the film as a statement on such a theme, would be unnecessarily limiting to the film.
As directed by commercial and video veteran Mike Mills, this adaptation of the Walter Kirn book has many of the earmarks of the MTV visual generation, including fun graphics and montages, many scenes dependant on the music for their impact and video tricks like slow motion. Often it results in a look that’s familiar, like Garden State or The Virgin Suicides. Fortunately, Mills complements a sense of visual creativity with an ability to leave the camera alone and let the actors do the work.
Those actors doing the work are well-cast, starting with Pucci, who’s outstanding as a boy lost in his own skin. Young actors can often take a role like this and make it look like they are trying too hard, but Pucci makes his acting look effortless. That’s despite portraying a character that’s twisting in the wind, changing personalities from scene to scene, while maintaining a subtle consistency that sells the story.
Pucci is supported by Tilda Swinton and Vincent D’Onofrio as his biological, though not emotional parents, who both play roles that are funhouse mirror images of Justin. The parts of the “kids having kids” parents risked veering into satire territory, but Swinton and D’Onofrio rein them in and make them two quality parental roles, even if they aren’t particularly good parents.
It may be a relatively small part for such a big name, but Reeves’ pseudo-shaman is the kind of part that his fans have been hoping for since My Own Private Idaho, as it shows that he can play a part, instead of himself, even if the part may not be far removed from himself. It’s the kind of part that every underrated actor needs to show what they can do, and one this film has in surplus, handing out low-key opportunities to Benjamin Bratt and Vince Vaughn as well. Their performances, in turn, lift the film, especially the impressive minor part of Justin’s brother Joel (Chase Offerle), who delivers one of the truest lines in the entire film, one that puts a neat little bow on a film that otherwise defies such packaging.
After the bankrupt “Toys,” pilot Barry Levinson could father filed for the artistic equivalent of Chapter 11. With his stature wholly liquidated, he had nowhere to go but up.
“Jimmy Hollywood,” his first film since The Disaster, surges into the black for about 45 minutes. A comic allegory about making it big in Tinseltown, it stars dynamo Joe Pesci and is initially charged with the kind of chummy banter that graced Levinson’s early work (”Diner” and “Tin Men”).
But just when it seems safe to step into a Levinson movie again, “Jimmy Hollywood” goes under. After introducing the wonderfully nutty Jimmy Alto (Pesci), his eccentric, likable Spanish girlfriend (Victoria Abril) and his addled pal (Christian Slater), Levinson leads them into a misbegotten vigilante caper, with shopworn forebodings about Hollywood, society’s obsession with fame, and crime on Main Street U.S.A. The movie increasingly suggests a dream-factory version of “Falling Down.”
Alto, a fast-talking troll in shades, short pants and a bizarre blond hairdo, has left the aluminum siding trade in New Jersey to act in Hollywood. Living with Lorraine (Abril), a sweet-natured hairdresser, he works single-mindedly toward his dream. He pores over the trade papers for auditions and studies classic movies on the tube. He’s even bought himself a vanity billboard on a bus stop bench.
Hollywood, Alto has swiftly discovered, is just a state of mind. The streets are full of hookers, drug dealers and muggers. He’s not getting any parts, either, although he claims to have done a “helluva reading” for a role in the TV series “Matlock.” He was rejected for the show, he claims, because “I think they felt I was a little too strong for Andy Griffith.”
Angered by an attempted mugging of Lorraine, as well as the theft of his car stereo, Alto persuades sidekick William (Slater) to take a video camera out to the streets and conduct a stakeout. They catch a thief, truss him up and deposit him in front of the Hollywood police station, the incriminating videotape taped to his back. They also affix a message to the cops, telling them to catch some criminals — or hear again from the “S.O.S.”
When the news channels get hold of the story, they transform this citizen’s arrest into the work of a mysterious vigilante group — the S.O.S. Alto sniffs a double opportunity: to clean up the streets and have the role of his life.
Even during its best moments, “Jimmy Hollywood” is always a moment away from falling apart. What, for instance, does attractive, hard-working Lorraine see in a guy who looks like Tracey Ullman’s evil twin? Buoyed by their notoriety, Alto and William launch a massive campaign to nab more hoods. The criminals pile up in front of the cop shop. But with Alto and William out of work, how do they finance themselves? And given the number of “Candid Camera”-style captures they make, why does no one ever see them?
At the beginning of the film, Pesci is a bundle of delight. Frustrated with waiting tables (a job he’s soon to lose), he blows the powdered sugar from a plate of French toast — right into an obnoxious customer’s face. When another customer complains his fried eggs should have been scrambled, Alto sticks his fingers into the yolks and churns them into a yellow mess.
But as he becomes messianically engrossed in his mission, Alto is less believable — a contrivance of Levinson’s rather than a true character. “It’s a great role, Lorraine,” he tells his girlfriend with silly grandiosity, completely ignoring her protestations. Toward the end, Alto’s self-righteous obsession becomes so speechifyingly tiresome, the audience may find itself rooting for the forces of law and order — just to shut him up.
As shiftless William, suffering chronic memory lapse after an accident, Slater also has his moments. It is he, incidentally, who coins the S.O.S. tag — thinking he’s wittily using David O. Selznick’s initials, but misremembering the famous producer as Steven O. Selznick.
In her English-language debut, Abril (the sensational star of Pedro Almodovar’s “High Heels” and “Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!”) shows great comedic promise. Unfortunately, in this film she’s resigned to playing disapprover to Alto’s zaniness. “Jimmy,” she seems to say a thousand times. “I can’t live this way!”
She speaks the truth, however. In a movie as dumb as “Jimmy Hollywood” becomes, nobody can live this way.
“Jimmy Hollywood” is rated R for profanity and violence.
Paramutual Pictures is in trouble. Their films are doing well at the crate office, but production costs are spiraling out of control. Head of the studio T. Paramutual (Brian Donlevy) has hired an proficiency expert, but decides that he needs someone unknown to consider all parts of the studio incognito. And preferably, someone so stupid he won’t disinterested make a reality what he’s doing. Prompt the bumbling “movie sheet sticker-upper” Morty Tashman (Jerry Lewis), who’s incomparable for the by.
Morty takes a job as an errand old egg, and begins his inadvertent control of destruction. Asked to ransom some script changes to the secretarial pool, he accidentally mixes the supplemental pages with parts of other scripts, then causes common chaos when he stumbles over a desk, sending wide stacks of typing everywhere. His ambiguousness over whether to turn off the boss’ wife disappointing at the doctor, or get the car—a convertible with the top down—washed inception predictably results in a sudsy strife and not work-filled vehicle. And when he’s tasked with opening a huge manliness of champagne to consecrate a star’s birthday, it’s as if a give someone a pink slip hydrant has been opened.
Lewis directed and co-wrote The Errand Little shaver, and while it’s not putrid, it’s just not that funny either. There are some cloth gags, including one laugh-out-loud sight when he has to get a large jug of jelly beans down from a high-frequency shelf, on a sliding ladder, and one-liner where he’s underwater holding his soupeon astound for an impossibly long time (which I won’t ruin by giving away the punch line), but numberless of them fall flat. When he’s accidentally taken home by glamorous but ditzy star Anastasia Anastasia (Iris Adrian), the results are certain, and the outcome of the car wash disagreeable situation mentioned insusceptible to wouldn’t shocker a tick grader.
While Lewis’ some-time director Frank Tashlin cleverly integrated his directing with the gags, Lewis’ own directorial work is immeasurably more workmanlike, even pedestrian. Not that it’s clumsy or unskilled, but Lewis seems willing to do sole the minimum necessary to convey the essence of the gag, and Tashlin’s creativity is sorely missed. The writing is a piece suspect, too. There are two scenes where Morty interacts first with a silent yokel hand puppet, then pours his spirit out to Southern belle ostrich puppet, and we expect a news of a secret adherent, but there is none, and the scenes go unexplained. And there’s one scene at the bare boundary where Lewis compliments himself excessively—while it’s indirect, the aim is overt, and it’s rather grating.
Where The Errand Little shaver does work is in its affectionate portrayal of the workings of a Hollywood studio. Paramutual’s logo is written in a script indistinguishable to Paramount’s (who produced the movie), and it’s usually fun to lease a take a dekko at behind the scenes at a “dream works.”
David Lynch (Blue Velvet) presents entire of the most critically acclaimed films a day made. A hilarious and abstruse journey through artistic faculty and sexual preoccupation, CRUMB is a wild conveyed on through the mind of Robert Snippet; creator of Zap Comix, Mr. Natural and Fritz the Cat. BIT enters a domain as spooky as it is fascinating… a portrait of the artist as hermit, as bad-boy visionary,as a joker and sex maniac and, finally, as exemplar. One of those rare steam experiences that has the giddy effect of being a nightmare and a party at the same time.
